Mountain Top

by Robert Whitlow

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “A little queasy, but I have an excuse with the baby. What about you?”

  “Queasy, but without a baby in my belly. I woke up this morning thinking about Danny Brewster.”

  “Any dreams?”

  “No, just bad memories.”

  “This is a different case.”

  “I know, but there’s the same pressure of representing an innocent man.”

  Peg came over, stood behind him, and rubbed his shoulders.

  “And you’ve worked as hard getting ready as for any trial in your career. If preparation is the key to success, you couldn’t have done more.” Peg lifted her hands from his shoulders. “All you need is a cup of coffee, a shower, a prayer, and a kiss.”

  Mike looked up at her. “Could I have two kisses?”

  Peg gave him a peck on the lips. “And you know I’ll be here rooting for you. I thought about coming to the courthouse—”

  “No,” Mike said quickly. “I need to focus.”

  Peg rubbed his shoulder a little harder. “And I would be a distraction?”

  “Yes. And seriously, Sam told me on Saturday that Muriel is going to stay at home because the arguing in the courtroom would just upset her. She’ll come when it’s time for the jury to deliberate. That won’t happen until the end of the week.”

  “Maybe that’s when I’ll come, too.”

  Mike finished his coffee and went upstairs. After he shaved and showered, he stood in the doorway to their clothes closet. Peg sat on the edge of the bed.

  “What are you going to wear?” she asked.

  “You pick.”

  “The dark blue suit with a white shirt and gold tie. You never go wrong with that one. The tie complements the brown in your eyes.”

  Mike dressed and patted his stomach. “I bought this suit when I tried the Cramerton case. It still fits.”

  “It was always big.”

  Mike finished knotting his tie. Peg joined him, adjusted the knot, and stepped back to examine him.

  “You’ll be the most handsome lawyer in the courtroom,” she said.

  Mike smiled. “Bobby got all the girls in college. I’ll settle for most persuasive lawyer.”

  Peg patted him on the cheek. “Before you go, I want to pray for you.”

  Mike bowed his head. They’d never prayed together before he left to go to court. Peg quietly expressed many of the desires of his own heart.

  “And show Mike anyone in the jury pool who might be prejudiced against Sam because of his faith. Give them peace in the midst of the battle, and I ask you to comfort Muriel while she waits alone at home. Amen.”

  Mike opened his eyes. Peg gave him a long kiss on the lips.

  “Okay,” she said. “You’re ready for anything.”

  Mike loaded his briefcase with the items needed for jury selection, his opening statement, and cross-examination of the witnesses identified by Melissa Hall, along with rough outlines of questions for the unknown witnesses he believed Maxwell Forrest would parade into the courtroom.

  HE DROVE INTO TOWN AND PARKED ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF the courthouse from his former law firm. He didn’t want to engage in any small talk with Mr. Forrest or Bobby. Sam, looking uncomfortable in a white shirt, dark pants, and blue tie, waited for him near the rear of the courtroom. Prospective jurors were finding places to sit on the benches. Mike shook Sam’s hand.

  “This is it,” Mike said. “Are you ready?”

  “I reckon,” Sam replied, “but it still looks fuzzy to me.”

  Mike glanced toward the district attorney’s table. There was no sign of Ken West or Melissa Hall.

  “Did you look over the jury list?” Mike asked.

  “Yep.” Sam handed him two sheets of paper. “Muriel and I wrote down stuff about the people we know.”

  Mike glanced at the sheets in surprise. “You know all these people?”

  “Several of them, but as I read the names, Papa showed me things about others I’ve never met.”

  Mike quickly read the notations beside a few of the names.

  “‘Cut his brother’s grass for years. Problems with daughter and blames Papa. Mulched flower beds last fall. Doctor told him without surgery his heart may not last another three years. Can’t forgive uncle who took over family business and didn’t pay fair price.’” He looked up at Sam. “What am I supposed to do with this personal information?”

  “Eat the meat and spit out the bones,” Sam answered.

  “But you’re not going to try to talk to anyone—”

  “Not during the trial,” Sam replied. “I’m not going to make it hard for you to do your job.”

  Mike searched the courtroom. There was no sign of Bobby, Forrest, or any of the witnesses Mike had subpoenaed. He suspected they were congregating at Forrest, Lambert, and Arnold.

  “Sit in the spectators’ section until they call the case,” Mike said to Sam.

  Mike joined Greg Freeman and several other lawyers. As the clock moved closer to 9:00 a.m., the courtroom filled up. But without any sign of Maxwell Forrest or Bobby. Mike leaned over to Freeman.

  “Have you been in the DA’s office this morning?”

  “Yes, I had to drop off some pleadings I filed this morning.”

  “Did you see Mr. Forrest or Bobby Lambert?”

  “No, but they could have been in the conference room.”

  The side door to the prosecutor’s office opened, and Melissa Hall entered. No one joined her. Immediately thereafter, Judge Lancaster strode into the courtroom.

  “All rise,” the bailiff sounded out.

  The judge took his seat and looked at Hall.

  “Call your trial calendar,” he barked.

  Hall stood. Mike rose to make his response.

  “State v. Turner,” Hall said.

  Mike’s jaw dropped open. Greg Freeman hurriedly stood to his feet.

  “Ready for the defense,” the younger lawyer said.

  Mike stepped toward the bench. “Your Honor, I’m here to try State v. Miller. I’ve subpoenaed multiple witnesses locally and from several other states. Last Thursday, I was assured by the district attorney’s office that this would be the first case called for trial. The Court ruled on several motions to quash—”

  “The indictment has been dismissed,” Hall answered with a side glance at Mike. “It was a late development that wasn’t confirmed until a few minutes ago.”

  For a moment, Mike was speechless. “Uh, was it a dismissal with prejudice?”

  “This is a criminal case, Mr. Andrews,” the judge answered wryly. “Voluntary dismissal prior to call of the case would allow reindictment without violating the constitutional prohibition against double jeopardy.”

  Mike glanced over his shoulder at Sam, who was sitting with a puzzled look on his face in the second row. Mike turned to Hall.

  “But why was the indictment dismissed? There has to be a reason, and my client has the right—”

  “You and Ms. Hall can chat later,” the judge interjected. “The Court has business to take care of. Ms. Hall, proceed for the State.”

  Mike walked over to the lawyers’ section and sat down. Greg Freeman and his client were already setting up shop at the defense table in preparation for jury selection. Mike motioned to Sam, who approached.

  “The indictment has been dismissed,” he said numbly. “We’re not going to trial.”

  They walked up the aisle and exited the courtroom as the clerk of court began calling the names in the jury pool. No one paid any attention to Mike and Sam. When they were outside the courtroom, Mike stopped.

  “What happens now?” Sam asked.

  “I’m not sure. You heard my discussion with the judge. You could be reindicted, or the charges could simply go away. Maybe Mr. Forrest and Jack Hatcher told the district attorney’s office to dismiss the indictment because they knew about the damaging evidence I was going to bring out in court, but that doesn’t make sense. Whatever the reason
, all the witnesses I subpoenaed will be free to leave, and I’m not sure if I can find and serve subpoenas on them in the future. If it turns out you’re reindicted next week, this was a dirty move.”

  “Did you think the charges might be dropped?” Sam asked.

  Mike shook his head. “No, it caught me completely off guard.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Go home and hug Muriel, but call me if you get another visit from the sheriff ’s office. I’ll talk to Lamar Cochran and ask him to tip me off if a warrant is issued for your arrest. I’ll also notify Darius York and Brian Dressler that they won’t be needed in court.”

  “Thanks for all you’ve done.”

  Mike shrugged. “All I did was show up.”

  “You know what I mean. Without all your hard work, they wouldn’t have run away.”

  “But you could still be charged.”

  Sam rubbed his stomach. “I don’t think so. Something inside tells me this forged check thing is over and done with.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Sam turned to leave, then stopped and faced Mike.

  “When will I see you again?” he asked.

  Mike put his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Anytime you want. I might ask you for a job helping take care of Mrs. Bowen’s backyard.”

  “Now, I can get started on the irrigation system she wants for the flower beds farthest from her house. I could use a strong back like yours to do some digging.”

  Sam left the courthouse. Mike lingered, still wound tight in anticipation of the trial but with no place to release his energy. He didn’t share Sam’s optimism about the future.

  He went to his car but didn’t start the engine. He could go home, but watching TV game shows on Monday morning didn’t appeal to him. He had to find out what had happened to the case. Getting out of his car, he returned to the courthouse and marched into the district attorney’s office.

  “Is Ken available?” he asked the receptionist.

  “I’ll see if he’s in,” she replied.

  Mike glanced down the hallway and saw the large form of the district attorney lumbering into his office. Mike didn’t wait for clearance from the receptionist. He walked down the hall and knocked on the door.

  “It’s open!” West responded.

  Mike stuck his head in the door. “Do you have a minute?”

  West waved his hand. “Mike! Come in and have a seat. Sorry I was so short with you the other day. You did a great job for your crystal-ball-reading client. The way you hassled the bank forced them to find out what really happened.”

  Mystified, Mike sat across from the district attorney. “Can you give me additional details?”

  “Not much, beyond the evidence implicating Brian Dressler.”

  “Dressler?” Mike didn’t hide his shock.

  West leaned forward. “Don’t act surprised. You tracked him down and subpoenaed him after he was fired by the bank.”

  “Yes. But I also intended to question several other people.”

  “I know, and cast doubt on your client’s guilt from as many angles as possible. Whether you use a shotgun or a rifle doesn’t matter so long as you kill what you’re after.”

  Mike sat with a blank look on his face.

  West continued, “But don’t look to me for an apology. With the information in our file, there’s no way we could have figured out what really went down. It took the bank to unravel Dressler’s modus operandi.”

  “What exactly was he doing?” Mike asked slowly. “I want to explain it correctly to Mr. Miller.”

  “You’ll have to ask Maxwell Forrest for the details, but he described it as a form of internal check kiting. Dressler created a personal slush fund by shifting money between noninterest-bearing accounts that had little activity. The money didn’t stay out of an account for a full business day, so it never appeared as a debit; however, Dressler could use the funds to bankroll his day-trading habit.”

  “The Craig Valley church building account was one of his sources?”

  “Correct, and as chief of internal security at the bank, he covered his tracks. I asked Forrest if Dressler made a bad stock trade that he couldn’t cover, but apparently a problem with Dressler’s wife led to his downfall.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “I know. Dressler was chained to his desk while running his scam. One day he left in a hurry because his wife had an emergency and didn’t put all the pieces back in place. A $100,000 withdrawal showed up on the church account. Dressler had to come up with a scapegoat and targeted your client to explain the money flowing out of the account.”

  “How did he know my client and his connection with the church?”

  “Not sure, although it was a subtle touch accusing a white man of embezzling money from a black church. Played nice on the race card in a backhanded kind of way.”

  “Have you seen the bank records documenting any of this?”

  “No, and the bank may not do anything to Dressler because he never actually stole the money. It’s all computer entries. Hatcher is considering his options, but at this point, I believe his major concern is avoiding negative publicity.”

  “I’d suspect as much from him,” Mike answered wryly.

  “Did your expert confirm that the checks allegedly signed by your client were typed at the bank?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was a very smart move on your part. I don’t think Dressler anticipated someone making the connection.”

  Mike stared past West’s left shoulder at a street scene on the north side of the courthouse. A woman was pushing a stroller with twins along the sidewalk. Life moved on.

  West continued, “You wanted to tear into Dressler, didn’t you?”

  Mike returned his focus to the DA. “I wanted to bring out the truth.”

  West chuckled. “Don’t we all? There’s nothing more fearsome than a capable lawyer cloaked in the zeal of a righteous cause.”

  “Do you know if the other witnesses I subpoenaed are in town?”

  “No.”

  “So, can I tell Sam Miller not to worry about a reindictment?”

  West waved his arms. “Absolutely. He’s in the clear. The next time he’ll be in front of a jury should be to prove his punitive damage claim against Dressler.”

  West stood to his feet. Mike joined him.

  “Someone else will need to handle that case,” Mike said.

  West shook Mike’s hand.

  “I agree. Go back to your pulpit, and use your talents for the good Lord’s work.”

  MIKE LEFT THE COURTHOUSE. CLICKING OPEN HIS BRIEFCASE, he found the phone number for Brian Dressler’s lawyer in Mobile. He held a moment before a young female voice answered.

  “This is Beverly Dortch.”

  Mike introduced himself. “I’m calling about the subpoena served on Brian Dressler.”

  “He’s not going to honor it,” Dortch said before Mike could continue. “I’ve filed a motion to quash it in our local court.”

  “On what grounds? It was personally served on your client while he was in North Carolina.”

  “I’ll present my argument to the court.”

  Mike conducted a quick debate whether to communicate any of the information he’d just obtained from Ken West.

  “When is the hearing on your motion?” he asked.

  “Wednesday afternoon at three o’clock. If you provide a fax number, I’ll send you a copy of the notice.”

  “I don’t have a fax machine.”

  “You don’t have a fax machine? What kind of law firm do you operate?” Mike bit his lip. “A small one.”

  “Do you have access to a computer with an Internet connection?”

  “Yeah, they just ran cable lines to this part of North Carolina,” Mike answered sarcastically, then gave her his e-mail address. “Send me the notice, but I won’t attend the hearing. Your more serious challenge will be trying to fight an extradition order if Dressler’s former employer and
the local district attorney decide to file criminal charges against him for illegal money transfers.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dortch asked sharply.

  “You’ll find out when it’s brought up in court.”

  Mike clicked off the phone. Lawyers like Dortch would make a return to the ministry, even with its challenges, a pleasant prospect.

  HE CALLED DARIUS YORK AND BROKE THE NEWS TO HIM.

  “Your work was a key,” Mike said. “The mere threat of your appearance in court scared the assistant district attorney into dropping the charges.”

  “Right. Tell me what really happened.”

  Mike summarized his conversation with Ken West.

  “What do you think?” Mike asked when he finished.

  “I’m not sure it’s a plausible scenario. I’m not up-to-date on bank security, but there are tamperproof safeguards that would catch someone manipulating accounts in the way you described.”

  “I may not be explaining it properly, but at this point it doesn’t really matter to Sam Miller. Getting the charges against my client dismissed is the bottom line. It’s not my job to police the rest of the world.”

  “Give my regards to Mr. Miller,” York answered. “I appreciated his honesty and insight. Tell him that I’m already taking steps to correct at least one of my past sins.”

  Mike cringed in regret at his efforts to squelch Sam’s comments to York.

  “Okay, and I’ll put the balance of your fee in the mail by the end of the week.”

  “Forget it,” York responded. “Consider it my contribution to a worthy cause.”

  MIKE DROVE HOME SO HE COULD DELIVER THE GOOD NEWS TO Peg. He found her sitting on the couch in the great room with a book in her hand. She glanced up in surprise when he tapped lightly on the door frame.

  “It was over before it began,” he said.

  Mike paced back and forth across the room while he talked. Peg wiped away a tear.

  “Good tears?” he asked when he saw her rub her eye.